


Tale of Two Lavellans

by fanfreak



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dalish pride, F/M, Fade Nerds, Feels, Lavellan siblings, M/M, Post Game, Spoilers, Two Inquisitors, maybe smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-21 11:10:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4826885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfreak/pseuds/fanfreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your clan was unique in having enough interest in human affairs to send you to spy upon the Divine's meeting."</p>
<p>It was not Cecile Lavellan - First to the Keeper - that had been sent to spy, yet she has the mark and the key to the world's salvation. Indeed, her younger brother, Etienne Lavellan, a pragmatic scout and hunter for the clan, was sent to the Conclave. "The decisions made here could affect us all." He didn't know just how true that might be, that through his sister he might have the power to shape the outcome of Thedas. But how far is Etienne willing to go to manipulate his own sister's image for the good of the world?</p>
<p>On the opposite side, Cecile is Dalish and proud, unwilling to buy into this Herald of Andraste image. But the mark on her hand allows her to help people. It doesn't make her special, she knows that, but she's not so convinced everybody else knows that. The only person that seems to understand is the apostate elf - neither Dalish nor city born - with a fondness for spirits that Cecile thought she would never see anywhere else...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This shall be quite an experiment... I did parallel playthroughs in Inquisition once with these characters and I enjoyed the headcanon story I came up with enough that I felt the need to share it.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Etienne Lavellan said defensively.

 

It was difficult not to be, tied up as he was, watching a non-Dalish elf poke at his unconscious sister. Apostate or not, Etienne didn't trust him. He didn't trust anybody. But like his sister, he was their prisoner and he had little options in the matter.

 

Slipping out of the rope wouldn't be that difficult, to be fair. The red headed woman had found all of his hidden blades, a knowing twinkle in her eyes that Etienne respected. But that didn't mean he didn't know how to slip a knot. The problem with escaping was since they stepped out of the Fade, Cecile had been unconscious, a strange mark on her left hand.

 

It was killing her.

 

Etienne couldn't fight soldiers off, carry his sister and expect to find somebody that could slow the growth of the mark. This elf, apparently, could.

 

"That is none of your concern," growled the Seeker. She paced behind the kneeling elf, clearly as anxious as Etienne. For different reasons. The Seeker, a rough woman with short ebony hair and a slash scar upon her cheek, thought she had the murderer of the Divine tied up in front of her.

 

Which was the last thing the Dalish needed at a time like this. Two assassins caught after blowing up the Temple of Sacred Ashes, killing many mages, templars and Divine Justinia. Never mind that Etienne was certain that didn't happen, that his sister and him weren't involved. But he couldn't remember enough to prove it. And the curse of his ears meant few would believe him even if he could speak the truth knowingly.

 

"As that is my sister, it is very much my concern," Etienne responded, crossing his legs more comfortably under him. This would take some time, he reckoned. It would do him no good to sit tense for the hours, possibly days, he might expect to be here. He might have chuckled at the idea of eating here with his hands bound thus if the situation weren't so serious.

 

"This is powerful magic," the elf said, rocking back on his heels. Like many Dalish and some city elves, he wrapped his sole's with leather but left his toes and heels bare. It and his pointed ears were probably the only recognizably elf-like qualities to the man. His face was clear of vallaslin, his head completely bald, and his clothing nondescript and utilitarian. A small sack sat close by, never out of reach of the elf as if he were ready for travel at any moment. "And though your prisoner is a mage, Seeker, this power is beyond her."

 

"And since I'm not a mage at all..."

 

"Quiet!" the Seeker interrupted Etienne, growling in frustration. Her fingers grasped at the air at her sides as if she yearned to draw her sword or pick up something to throw. This was a woman used to action and fighting. "Tell me, Solas. Will she live? Can we question her?"

 

Now Etienne felt ignored. Which under most circumstances was not a bad thing. Easier to observe in most cases. Right now, he wanted something to do and observing was not cutting it.

 

"It's hard to say," Solas sighed, absently reaching for a staff that had been taken from him. A small smile quirked his lips before he stood without it. Somehow Etienne had a feeling that even without the staff, Solas would have no trouble escaping if the Seeker was determined to keep him prisoner as well. "While I have done all I can, the mark is clearly connected to the breach, which is spreading. It will kill her."

 

That was no an answer, Etienne wanted to point out. His eyes moved to his unconscious sister, her auburn hair draped half over her face, red branches for Mythal spreading upon her pale, worried brow. Her bottom lip trembled, every so often her hand twitching sometimes accompanied with sparks of green. Still, in all the hours since they had been dragged to the basement of the Chantry, Cecile had not awakened.

 

She was here because of him.

 

Etienne had been sent by their Keeper - partly at his own urging - to the summit, to see what was decided about mage freedom. If an institute other than the circles was enacted then there was a chance for Dalish mages to have training elsewhere, at least with time. And once schools started excepting Dalish mages, where else could they grown their influence?

 

But as she was the older, Cecile had decided it was too dangerous for her brother. However she found out about the mission, since he hadn't told her. He'd known how she would react, protective as usual. She had secreted away into the Temple of Sacred Ashes without Etienne's knowledge, stumbling upon... something. He couldn't remember. On the edge of his memory, Etienne could feel that it was something important. His heart remembered the anxiety, the feeling of being too late, of something bigger than he could have anticipated with no idea of how they would get out of this danger.

 

Then they were stumbling out of the Fade, his sister collapsing in his arms. They didn't even get a chance to argue. Etienne hadn't gotten to hear from Cecile how it was stupid for him to go alone, how she was just as capable as he was. Funny, he'd never wanted to have a fight with his sister before. They were something inevitable, like snow in winter. Hugs as well, Cecile could never have too many of them. Etienne always braced himself for the fighting, knowing that it didn't matter how right or logical he was, she would never see it his way. But she might be convinced to go along with it.

 

He wanted her to wake up so he could assure her that he knew she was capable. That wasn't why he left her behind.

 

Why couldn't she have just stayed behind?

 

"You! Elf!"

 

Etienne blinked red eyes, carefully bringing himself back to the present. He schooled his face in a neutral expression, staring up at the Seeker. "Etienne," he corrected her gently.

 

She made a disgusted noise in her throat, gesturing for him to stand up. "Solas wishes to see if you are in some way connected to the breach as well," the Seeker explained. "Go with him."

 

"There is a rift nearby which should be adequate," Solas said. "I shall require my staff, however. I expect demons will be plenty." He chuckled, though Etienne didn't see the joke.

 

He might have asked for a knife - or preferably his bow returned - but it seemed unlikely. Better to save a request for when Etienne really needed it and not press his luck right now. He glanced back at his sister.

 

Her life could depend on his cooperation.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Et!"_

 

The cry died on her lips the moment she found consciousness. Scrabbling from her mind to the physical world, desperate to find some continuity, Cecile Lavellan was greeted first by unusual pain in her hand and then by two women she'd never met before. The hairs on the back of her neck continued to stand on end as if she were being chased, something she vaguely remembered. But from the moment she entered the Temple of Sacred Ashes everything was either blank or a strange green blur.

 

She explained this as well as she could to Seeker Pentaghast and Leliana, just as quickly demanding to know where her brother was. Ignoring the sickening vice grip on her stomach that said he was dead. Like all the others in the Temple. Her baby brother...

 

But she refused to let these shems see her struggle with emotions, and while Cecile had never been as great at it as Etienne, a well placed scowl kept tears at bay. It was the best she could offer under the circumstances. Even after the news that her brother had been sent on 'ahead' she didn't allow for anything else to cross her face. The mark that everybody was so obsessed with was inconsequential to the fate of her brother, her one last true family member.

 

Even the words 'it's killing you' hardly struck a chord in her determined mind. All she could think of was Et. A Dalish elf, alone in a sea of pious and armed shemlen, wouldn't sit right with her on a good day. That it was her brother, however skilled he might be, made it worse. Since the Seeker was planning on being at least mostly helpful, Cecile didn't break off in a rage of lightning and fireballs to tear off toward her brother. She followed, as calmly as she could, though she never missed an opportunity to point out how stupid a shemlen was.

 

"Do you think I need a staff to do magic?" Cecile scoffed as Seeker Pentaghast demanded she drop her staff. She'd been grateful that the mark didn't interfere with her abilities, though it continued to burn in her palm throwing off green sparks.

 

"No," the shemlen woman said, mouth tight. She put away her blade, however, and that was the best possible situation Cecile could expect right now. Right now she could attack and run after Et. Who would know? "And you should hardly be unprotected. I suppose I should also remember you did not run when you had the chance."

 

A frown curved Cecile's lips, uncertainty blooming in her breast. Never had she heard such reasonableness from a human before, and she never would have expected it here in the middle of a crisis. The 'knife-ears' were always the first to blame. That they all suspected her of murdering the Divine gave even justifiable cause for their blame. And here Cecile was, a prisoner with a weapon and a shemlen warrior turning her back with complete faith that she was safe from Cecile.

 

 _'This is not happening...'_ she thought to herself, blowing out a breath.

 

The icy wind picked at her long hair, attempting to catch and tangle it in her staff. For once in her life she understood why her mother always kept her blonde hair so short. Though her mother was able to joke about how it was her brother - Cecile's uncle - that kept tangling it to the point of no return. Cecile was lucky if her brother made any sort of physical contact at all. But as of now she didn't have time to cut her hair nor was it in any shape by now to braid it out of the way.

 

And as they crested another path of snow crusted steps, the sounds of battle pricked her ears.

 

"Et!" Cecile shouted, finishing the cry that she started in the distant fog of her mostly forgotten memory. She hadn't even meant to, but once it was there she couldn't stop, rushing to find him while the Seeker's protests faded into the wind.

 

Pain flared in her hand for just a moment as she rounded the bend, feeling something in the mark answer to the undulating green tear hovering in the air. Before her eyes it seemed to be there and not there, spitting out demons and sick, choked pieces of magic. A hole in the fade. She would have felt in on her skin, the fade calling to the magic inside her, regardless of the mark. And after the initial flash of pain it fell into a gentle burn, the pounding of a heartbeat that did not belong to her. 

 

Kind called to kind, but Cecile dragged her eyes over the crowd fighting back the demons. Soldier's swords flashed and an interesting mechanical 'twang' was answered by demon roars of pain. Her heart jumped as she caught sight of pointed ears but the hope was just as quickly dashed as the elfen figure twisted to throw a fireball to quell a demon in its path. Not her brother.

 

Gnashing her teeth, Cecile waded into the fray with Seeker Pentaghast, finding herself back to back with the other elf mage. Blood splashed upon her hands and the front of her travel clothes, as always surprising her at how...  _real_ demons could be once in their world. Always they had seemed a perpetual menace from 'somewhere else' that wasn't here, a shadow from the fade that plucked away the personalities of certain mages to corrupt them entirely. But here they were was actual physical monsters, baring down on her to tear her apart from the outside. No less frightening, but in this way being a mage gave her a hard won edge. With but a wave of her hand, lightning ripped through their bodies and then they were gone, dissolving into a green mist.

 

"Quickly, before more come through!"

 

Cecile bit down on a curse as a stranger's hand grabbed her own, pointing the mark at the fade rift. The burning that she had before been able to ignore in the battle built up suddenly in pressure. It... didn't hurt so to speak, but the nerves in her palm burned as if submerged in boiled water. Until it all came to a breaking point and something seemed to  _pop_ , like her ears coming up into the mountain, and her hand was pushed back from the rapidly disappearing rift.

 

"What was that? What did you do?" Cecile gasped, staring down at her hand. For the first time, it looked mostly like her ordinary hand. A thin, pale green light bisected her calloused palm. But it didn't spit green sparks at her and the feeling returned... only to be chased away from tiny flecks of snow chilling her skin.

 

"I did nothing. The credit is yours," the elf mage replied calmly.

 

Cecile narrowed her eyes at him, finding his face clear of distinguishing marks. Everything about him was nondescript and were it not for the pointed ears she might not have known he was an elf at all. Many of their city brethren wore entirely shemlen clothes and even chose their marks for their faces instead of vallaslin, but few could hide what they were. Every single elf was narrow of shoulders, lithe in build and usually with larger than humanly average eyes. This elf very nearly was human in build and it set off Cecile's nerves like bees in her stomach.

 

"I didn't do anything," Cecile nearly spat. Not at the conclave and not here. This mark, whatever it was, had nothing to do with her! "Where's my brother?"

 

She shot a burning glare in the Seeker's direction. That woman told her that Etienne would be here!

 

"Ah. He was recruited by Leliana. The pair of them went on ahead," the elf responded, sounding apologetic. It did nothing to endear him to Cecile. She was surrounded by hostiles and that was the attitude she would continue to take until she reached her brother, knew he was safe, and heard him confirm that  _any_ of these strangers were safe.

 

And even then she'd watch every single one of them warily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goal is not to repeat more of the in game dialogue than I have to and sometimes I will likely go off script to keep my characters... in character.
> 
> For those that don't know, shemlen is an elf word that is used as a derogatory term for humans. I'm not particularly fond of it or elves that use it but for right now it was keeping with Cecile's character. Expect it to drop away sooner rather than later and never to appear again.


	3. Chapter 3

_Keeper Deshanna seemed visibly uncomfortable with the marks on the map that Etienne had drawn up. Since the destruction of Kirkwall's Chantry - a sight he had seen with his own eyes - Templar and apostate mage activity had been a tricky thing to maneuver. Clan Lavellan traded regularly with humans, particularly Wycome, but they still preferred their distance. For many it was a matter of pride, wanting to keep everything Dalish separate from humans lest they become like their city brethren._

 

_To Etienne and his grandfather Tharis, the hahren of the clan, it was for more realistic reasons: survival. Not just in day to day, but as a culture and a species. It did them no good to operate at the extremes: isolated in the woods like many wandering Dalish tribes or living among the human cities. If they were ever to grow beyond what they were now, they had to accept that change was required._

 

_The problem they no faced was the dissolution of the circles. The activity of rogue templars and rebel mages was at an all time high and it was dangerous beyond the circle of their hunters and aravels. Etienne was one of the few hunters that could risk venturing out to spy on all the dangers, returning with information of their locations and sometimes with supplies that were difficult to come by from their usual trading spots. Lyrium being one of them. Not only did the Keeper need lyrium, but so did his sister. They were lucky they had no other mages in the clan right now. Well, lucky was a matter of perspective as hahren might say. After all it came at the cost of his mother's life several years ago._

 

_"This is good, da'len,"  his grandfather said, waving an aging hand to the map. Unlike Deshanna, their hahren had kept his poise as Etienne gave his briefing. There were many that found Tharis to be a cold, unemotional man who cared little about people and more about results. That despite his age he could still stand tall and even, on occasion, swing a sword or draw a bow like any young hunter only added to the image of the hardened, heartless leader. Perhaps it was because Etienne could relate or only because this was his grandfather, Etienne took the compliment with small stirrings of pride. "But our current plans will not be enough."_

 

_"Enough for what exactly?" Deshanna sighed, sounding weary already of the familiar argument. Despite being Keeper and the leader of the clan, she had deferred to Tharis so often lately that she didn't expect answers and explanations. She cared for the day to day needs of the tribe, while the hahren worked the big picture. Without checking in with anybody who might argue, as that wasted time._

 

_The Dalish were sorely low on time, had been for decades... centuries and ages even if the old legends were to be believed even partially. Etienne was hardly superstitious._

 

_"Have you heard anything of this Chantry leader, Etienne?" Tharis asked his grandson. Elgar'nan's vallaslin cut the elf's face in half, the black ink bringing out the subtle green in Tharis' otherwise grey eyes. The only obvious sign that he was related to his daughter - Etienne's mother - at all. They shared very little physical markers, though Etienne had always thought he shared his grandfather's chin. "She seems to have plans to put an end to this chaos."_

 

_"Good, let her," Deshanna sighed. Relief sparkled in her eyes as she moved them away from the map, looking away from Etienne and Tharis. So she missed the thin like their hahren's lips made and the nod of understanding Etienne gave in return._

 

_By dawn, Etienne had packed his things and left the camp without a word to anyone._

 

"You are Dalish," Solas said idly to Etienne as they hiked up some stone steps. Even here, the glow of green from the breach highlighted much. So much for stopping the chaos. "Yet far from your clan. What brings you out here?"

 

Nice of him to notice. There was a hole in the sky, demons pouring through to destroy this world, and the Chantry was a mess from the death of the Divine. But Solas not only took notice that Etienne was Dalish but that it was unlikely that an average Dalish elf would be in this part of the world. What use did they have for human politics and religions? The answer to Etienne was everything, after all they shared a planet with these things and like the wind affected the water, humans affected the Dalish whether they willed it or not.

 

"What do you know of the Dalish?" Etienne deflected, wondering what was purpose of the inquiry into Dalish politics. Every action had a reason, and behind those shrewd eyes of the bare faced elf, Etienne suspected direction to that reason.

 

"Much," Solas responded, and though Etienne didn't hold the same pride for his people as, say, his sister, his stomach burned slightly at the ego in that tone. "I have come across many clans in my wanderings, only to be chased away because of their superstition and pride."

 

Etienne might have laughed. On one hand he hardly doubted it, but on the other he wondered if this elf wasn't projecting...

 

"Can't you elves just play nice for once?"

 

The new voice could not have come from one of the soldiers. That self degrading deflecting voice that acted as if the whole world was a joke couldn't match up to the grim faces of soldiers that knew their only chance was to be killed by demons.

 

"Ah, Master Tethras, decided to join us?" Solas responded to a beardless dwarf. Side by side they stood, plain faced like babes, and yet Etienne could feel they were both experienced. The world was being destroyed piece by piece before their eyes and they could hardly bat an eyelash fast enough.

 

"Well, the Seeker hardly has a use for me and Bianca gets bored," the dwarf said, rolling his shoulders. He glanced over one affectionately at the oddly mechanical crossbow strapped to his back and Etienne felt his patience begin to wither. Their companion was being chosen because his  _crossbow_ got bored. Meanwhile, he himself was untied by now but still a prisoner and weaponless.

 

"Shall we get moving?" Etienne suggested.

* * *

"So none of you are actually in charge here?" Cecile grumbled.

 

Her uncle liked to talk about pissing matches between men, suggesting it had something to do with dick sizes, and while the Dalish had healthy and unhealthy competition she'd never quite grasped the concept. Until now. And she'd believe it had something to do with dick sizes too, despite the fact that Seeker Pentaghast had none... one could assume.

 

But while they argued about their dicks - or more specifically, what to do with Cecile - her brother got further and further ahead of her! They had reached Leliana who said that Et had gone on up the mountain to clear the way for some of her scouts. Apparently he had impressed her with his fighting abilities and Leliana decided to trust him. Her words. Cecile felt it was more along the lines of using him, and Et didn't mind being used. Their grandfather always had a real knack for it. Cecile always hated it and she had a feeling that Mama wouldn't have been happy about it either if she'd been more... there. But that wasn't her fault, whatever Et felt.

 

Despite her condemnation of their lack of leadership, Cecile balked as eyes turned toward her. They couldn't  _really_ expect her to make a decision on this! This Roderick guy was still calling her 'the prisoner' despite the staff strapped to her back and the rift she'd just closed with a wave of her freakin' hand not five feet from this spot. So clearly the group opinion of her was still low. Not to mention Cecile was hardly the leader type. That was Et! Why wasn't he here?

 

Yet she knew she had to trust that Et was going to be okay, that he knew what he was doing. Leliana let him off on his own and Et was clever even if he was her dumb little brother. Which probably made her next words hurt all the more.

 

"Let us charge. I won't survive long enough for your stupid trial anyways."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We leave the prologue soon, I swear! I meant for most of these first few chapters to be one chapter but I'm writing in between tasks at work and sometimes I just have to post what I have and move on with my life.


End file.
